


a burst of bright color

by wackpainterkid (swanandapirate)



Series: Manon's Mondays [3]
Category: SKAM (Netherlands)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-19 11:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19356190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanandapirate/pseuds/wackpainterkid
Summary: I love noliv because they’re two artsy fuckers who are also giant children when they’re together so here’s a Manon’s Mondays fic that’s just that :)





	a burst of bright color

**Author's Note:**

> I love noliv because they’re two artsy fuckers who are also giant children when they’re together so here’s a Manon’s Mondays fic that’s just that :)

_Liv: Are you home, because I’ll be there in five minutes :)_

 

Maybe she should have given Noah slightly more notice before dropping by, but Engel wanted to meet in a café close to his house and eventually had to cancel last minute because she wasn’t feeling so great, so Liv was suddenly left with an unexpected free moment and what better way to spend it than by annoying her boyfriend for a bit.

 

She’s sure he won’t mind.                                                                                            

 

Well, she’d know that if he would answer his phone of course.

 

Four minutes pass and she locks her bicycle close by, walking the final minute to his house. She rings the doorbell before taking a step backward, peering up to see if she can spot any movement in his room. 

 

The doorbell goes off for a second time, but still no answer. Liv purses her lips.

 

Noah might be with Micha or Gijs, he might even be at the grocery store.

 

Obviously, she doesn’t need to know his whereabouts 24/7 and obviously, she’s a strong and independent woman that doesn’t need a man but on her way here, she had kind of anticipated to see him and going home without seeing him would be disappointing. 

 

A thought emerges in her head. 

 

Liv thinks about a place she hasn’t been in quite some time, a place she hadn’t even thought of in a long time. There is no real reason for her to suspect he will be there, no real reason except for something he told her six months ago. That he used to go there to find some peace. And she doesn’t even know whether that is the case right now, whether she isn’t overthinking his absence, but still, she decides to just take the leap. To just go there and see if she is right. And if she isn’t, if he isn’t there, well then she’ll simply go home.

 

It’s a calm September evening, with a light breeze moving through the warm air, with the sun lingering in the sky, undeterred by clouds. At least the walk there and back will do her good.

 

The church comes into view and there seems to be light coming from inside; it is difficult to be sure when the sun hasn’t truly set yet, but it still evokes a hopeful smile on Liv’s face. 

 

She walks towards the entrance– or what she believes to be the entrance as the one time she has been here before, Noah had brought her inside the building through here. With some of Liv’s force behind it, the door creaks open.

 

Her eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the church and see him standing there. She has to control the smile that tries to creep on her lips, has to keep it from being too ecstatic at the sight of him. Noah, however, has a wary look on his face as he is alarmed by the door’s sounds and attempts to determine who has come to infiltrate his quiet place. 

 

Liv struggles to shut the door again but when it’s finally closed, she walks over to him. Out of nowhere, a seed of fear settles in her body as she comes closer and closer; what if wanting peace means not having to be around her?

 

“What are you doing here?” she asks him, taking in the paintbrush in his hand and the large canvas he’s standing in front. His distrust instantly morphs into something happier, something more joyful when he hears and sees her. He definitely doesn’t mind that she’s here, Liv’s chest deflates in relief.

 

“I could ask the same of you,” he teases with a broad smile.

 

“I went by your place and you weren’t picking up your phone.” Noah’s eyes shoot to his jacket lying in a corner, his jacket which Liv presumes contains his phone as well. “I had an inkling you might be here,’ she continues while minimizing her words with a tiny shrug.

 

“Good instincts.”

 

He lays down his brush on the easel and wipes his hands on a cloth to get rid of the excess pigment. His paint-stained hands cradle her cheeks before he goes to kiss her hello, she rises on her toes to meet him halfway.

 

“Hope I’m not intruding,” Liv says once their greeting is over.

 

“Of course not,” he reassures, his head shaking.

 

“What’re you painting?” Her gaze travels to the pedestal and her body follows. She stands next to him, her hip almost glued to his as she watches the almost empty canvas. 

 

The little color the painting has, Liv doesn’t really consider color; they’re greys and blacks and dark blues, and she doesn’t like how suffocated they make her feel. By now, however, she’s learned to be patient and just wait to see the finished product. She knows better than to second guess Noah’s art. He’s the artist. He’s the one who creates these pieces of art. He isn’t about to tell her how to write a chorus out of the blue, nor should she give unsolicited advice and criticism on how to paint.

 

“I have no idea,” he replies, scratching the back of his head as he considers the painting too. “I got stuck so I thought a change of scenery might help.” He motions to the church they’re standing in. So that’s what he’s doing here. Trying to get inspiration.

 

“And is it?”

 

“Nope.” His lips plop around the word before he lets out a sigh that makes his shoulders drop. “Very frustrating.”

 

Her eyes leave the canvas and fall on him. He didn’t need to tell her it’s frustrating because, as she watches him, she can see it influence his expression and his movements.

 

This isn’t the first time something similar has happened. Occasionally, Noah just gets worked up in finding the right colors and composition, and sometimes it’s to such an extent that it completely blocks him, that that search for perfection keeps him from finishing the piece altogether.

 

Luckily, she knows something that could help distract him.

 

Liv hugs him from behind, laying her cheek against his back and she feels his hand cover hers.

 

“You wanna make out?” she mumbles against the fabric of his shirt.

 

“What?” Noah looks at her over his shoulder.

 

Liv teasingly wiggles her eyebrows and he chuckles as his hand rubs over her arm.

 

“Given the place we’re currently standing in, that seems slightly blasphemous, don’t you think?”

 

She frowns as she tries to figure out where exactly this is coming from. Noah is just about the least religious person she knows and usually, she’s the one who has to say no to a make-out session because if he would have his way, they would randomly make out in the freezer section of an Albert Heijn supermarket.

 

“I mean, you’re the one who brought me here on a date and started this whole thing. But your loss, I guess.” Her hands unlock from around his waist and she steps away from him. She sits down on the closest pew instead, giving him the room to focus on his painting again.

 

Her eyes travel around the church, they rise to the ceiling and descend to the floor, they oscillate along the walls.

 

She forgot about the beauty of this place, of its simplicity. Forgot about the dim lighting and the colored windows. It makes her want to sketch. She opens the little notebook she always carries with her and fishes a pen out of her bag. A line appears on the blank page and then another one until the shape of a cross appears, until the shape of a painter named Noah appears underneath.

 

Liv can sense his eyes spending more time trained on her than on the painting in front of him. He grabs a new brush and dabs it in color, bringing it close before laying it down again, mixing yet another shade or picking another color altogether. He doesn’t actually brush them on the canvas, though.

 

Eventually, he gives up pretending.

 

“What’re you drawing?” he asks as he approaches the pew she’s sitting on, one of the paintbrushes still in his hands. He hovers over her and tries to take a peek at the page she’s working on.

 

She clicks her tongue and quickly closes her notebook. 

 

“No no no focus on your painting, Mr. Boom,” she instructs.

 

“You’re too distracting, Ms. Reijners.” His hand travels up her arm but before he can reach her hair or shoulder, Liv inches away from him.

 

“Well.” An eyebrow goes up. “You should’ve grabbed the opportunity when it presented itself.”

 

At this point, she is teasing him and both of them are very much aware.

 

He could’ve had a full-blown make-out session if he wanted but he said no. So, he should live with the consequences now.

 

“Being spry, are we?”

 

Her other eyebrow joins the already raised one in response and a sly smile curls her lips.

 

He flicks his paintbrush at her and three tiny droplets of yellow end up on her wrist. Liv stares at them before looking back up, a stunned question in her eyes. “Did you just–” she begins to ask but is interrupted by Noah repeating his previous action. A splatter ends up on her leg.

 

“No,” she sternly commands with a warning finger pointed at him. “Noah Boom, I swear to you, don’t you dare.” 

 

A boyish grin appears on his face and Liv knows it’s too late; there’s no stopping him now. Her notebook ends up on the stone floor as she gets up in a rushed manner to flee from him. Noah manages to paint a yellow streak on her calf as she leaves the pew. 

 

Liv isn’t just running away, however. She has a mission and heads for the canvas and the pedestal. As Noah chases her, time is of the essence and after snatching a brush, she turns around in a surprise attack, her own weapon being a brush with orange paint.

 

He clearly isn’t expecting it because Liv manages to place a dab of orange right on his nose. He jumps back, shock on his face as his hand wipes off the color. 

 

“Oh, that’s how you want to play it, huh?” he asks, and she only lifts her shoulders in response, the movement clearly meant as a challenge, as a dare he accepts in mere seconds as he, his brush at the ready, bolts towards her.

 

She expects him to strike again, expects that she’ll be able to run away again but instead, he picks her up, lifts her body from the ground and nuzzles his orange nose in her hair. He carries her to the easel, places his hand on the palette covered with paint and wipes it against her face. A shriek escapes her mouth.

 

 “Noah!” He only laughs in response.

 

Liv wiggles and wiggles, trying to free herself from his grip. She colors everything her brush manages to reach, leaving orange streaks in its wake, in his hair, on his hands.

 

After some more squirming, her feet end back on the floor but if Noah thinks it would mean the end of this war, he doesn’t know her yet. Liv goes straight for the palette too and plans to take her revenge.

 

Their laughs echo through the church.

 

“And this isn’t blasphemous?” Liv asks once a truce has been agreed upon, her chest heaving due to all of the running and chasing they did.

 

“As far as I know the church does not have anything against this kind of dirty.” He winks.

 

He actually dares to wink.

 

“You know what,” Noah says, “I take my words back. You don’t look like Monet’s Waterlilies, you’ve got more of a Pollock vibe.”

 

“Oh my god, Noah, stop talking.”

 

And he does listen, but the silent chuckle that bubbles out of him is somehow worse.

 

At the moment, Liv isn’t sure if she wants to kiss him or just smear him with even more paint.

 

Their relationship has existed for months now and the combination of mostly love and a considerable amount of frustration that makes itself known every time she spends time with him has still not worn off.

 

Liv hopes it never does.

 

“How on earth can we go outside looking like this?” Her hands attempt to untangle some paint-slathered curls but end up giving up. There’s no use when the paint acts as a colorful glue in her hair.

 

“It’ll be dark by now.”

 

“You’re not helping.” She pushes him lightly.

 

“At least there is some good news,” he says, and Liv looks at him with a curious look in her eyes.

 

“And that is?”

 

“I know what the painting needs.” And the places where she could previously see Noah’s frustration – in his face and in his behavior– she can now see contentment, inspiration. He isn’t stuck any longer and the spark in his blue eyes makes a happy expression appear on Liv’s face. 

 

“It just needs an uncontrolled burst of bright color.”

 

And it sounds so unbelievably cheesy that Liv can’t help but roll her eyes. She doesn’t really understand either how that random notion is magically going to fix his painting but if he says it’s the solution, the only choice she has is to believe him. Like she said before, Noah is the artist.

 

“Great. I’m expecting my share as soon as you sell it. Thanks.”

 

An orange middle finger flips her off and she laughs before leaning in to kiss him.

 

She can feel the paint drying on her skin, crackling with every breath she takes, chipping off with every move she makes.

 

“Okay, we need to go home,” she concludes. “I desperately need a shower.”

 

“Mind if I join?” Noah’s question comes out low and husky.

 

Liv gasps and puts a stained hand on her collarbone, a consternated expression appearing on her face. “Noah, how dare you? We’re in a church.”

 

You know, blasphemy and all that.

 


End file.
